Paradox
by jodm
Summary: Or is it a pair of docs? McCoy and Bergman discuss problems with their most uncooperative patients. Only on the holodeck . . .


_Hawaii Five-O and Star Trek belong to CBS. No copyright infringement is intended._

_This story is in the same universe as my earlier tales "Encounter at the Palace" and "The Q Conundrum." Beam us up, Scotty!_

* * *

**PARADOX**

* * *

Dr. Leonard McCoy yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, snapped off his medical computer, stood up, and stretched his cramped muscles. "Enough reports," he growled to no one in particular and headed for the transporter room. It wasn't that often that the _Enterprise_ put in for an extended stay at a major starbase, one with state of the art recreational facilities. He deserved a real break – and he was determined to make the most of it.

"Now, let's see," the surgeon ruminated, "where to? A good restaurant and a real home-cooked meal?" He could almost taste that southern fried chicken or New Orleans gumbo or pulled pork barbeque or . . . Hell, he'd gain ten pounds just thinking of all that food! Maybe a restaurant and home cooking wasn't the best place to start!

He remembered something new Sulu had been talking about, something called a holodeck. The thing was supposed to be able to create any number of scenarios and adventures. All you had to do was tell it what you wanted and Bingo! There it was, all ready for your enjoyment. Maybe he'd recreate that episode at Appomattox, only this time, he'd be accepting General Grant's surrender. Of course, he'd be a real Southern gentleman about it.

McCoy shook his head. What he really needed was a chance to swap stories with another doctor, one who understood the frustrations of dealing with uncooperative patients like Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. Now who? Hippocrates? Too ancient. Jonas Salk? Nope. Dr. Donald Mallard? Maybe. From everything he'd read about the man, he'd encountered some interesting problems with one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He also had the reputation of being quite a story teller. But Bones wasn't in the mood for conversations that always seemed to begin with "This reminds me of the time when . . ."

Ah! He had it! A twentieth century physician named Bergman. He'd been a medical examiner in Honolulu and co-incidentally, the Five-O physician. McCoy chuckled. The _Enterprise _had had a couple of encounters with two of the Five-O detectives. Time warps and all that. Might be fun talking with old Doc Bergman! He'd read Bergman's memoires a few months ago. _Better take that memory chip with the condensed version. The programmer might need it._

He described what he wanted to the holodeck technician. Setting: a beachfront restaurant in old Waikiki, a mint julep for him and a Kahlua for Bergman. And how about a nice sunny day, trade winds bringing the scent of open ocean and tropical blossoms, soft ukulele music in the background. Add in a pretty waitress – no, cancel that, too distracting.

At the tech's signal, McCoy entered the room and found himself on the lanai of Don the Beachcomber's. "Leonard!" a voice boomed. "Over here! Thought you'd never arrive. You don't know just how much I need to talk to another doc. It's been one of those days."

"Howdy, Berg," McCoy greeted the other physician. "You got problems that need advice from an old country doctor?"

"Old country doctor, my foot!" Bergman exclaimed. "You're flying around in that starship of yours, all kinds of gadgets to play with. I'm just a simple ME who's supposed to work miracles when one of those Five-O detectives gets himself hurt. And they do that on a regular basis, especially Steve and Danny." The curmudgeonly physician took a breath and studied his colleague. "You look like you could use a good rant, too." He lifted his Kahlua in a brief toast.

"Starship captains!" McCoy sputtered. "I can't even get Jim Kirk to come to Sickbay for his regular physical. Or get him to eat a healthy diet. I swear he lives on black coffee."

"Sounds like McGarrett. That man must drink ten cups of coffee a day. Don't know why he hasn't given himself a case of caffeine poisoning or high blood pressure on top of it."

"Ever switched him to decaf?"

"Wouldn't work, Bones. He could smell the difference. They all could. And don't even get me started on their diets! Cold sandwiches and Chinese takeout. God only knows when any of them last had a decent meal. Kono – he'll eat anything that won't eat him first. Danny eats mostly junk food. At least Chin gets a real dinner now and then. His wife sees to that."

My guys, too," McCoy broke in. "Jim won't follow the diet I prescribed for him and Spock eats nothing but vegetables and that horrible plomeek soup. I'm not sure what's in it, but it smells like boiled shoe leather. Would you believe, my nurse, Christine Chapel, makes it for him."

"So how do we keep them healthy?"

"Well, Berg, since we can't control their diets, the question becomes more like how do we keep them from getting hurt? You got any suggestions?"

"Suggestions?" Bergman answered despondently. "Don't you mean 'How do we keep them out of the path of a speeding bullet?' Or in your case, away from phaser burns?"

"Not to mention disruptors, poisonous plants, alien illusions, rogue asteroids, Hortas, Klingons, Gorn ship captains, Vulcan wedding ceremonies . . ."

"Vulcan wedding ceremonies? That doesn't sound too dangerous."

"They can be. Different customs and all that. I had to make Spock think he'd killed Kirk before he actually did kill him." Seeing Bergman's look of confusion, the Starfleet medico explained, "Spock's wedding didn't go according to plan. His bride-to-be wanted to marry someone else and that led to a duel to the death with Spock when she chose Jim for her champion. It took a hefty dose of a neuro-paralyzer to fool our science officer. Of course, he wasn't at his most logical at the time."

"Makes me glad I only have to dig bullets out of my guys. Lots of bullets."

"And treat concussions, sprains, broken bones, poisons, knife wounds," The list went on and on. "I've had to deal with a few of those, too."

"You left out amnesia, Bones," Bergman laughed. "Steve had a mild case, but Danny . . ." He paused as he remembered the incident. "Danny lost his memory for a few days. It finally came back just in time for him to save several lives. Including Steve's."

"Jim lost his memory once, too," McCoy said. "He got hit by an energy beam. It took a mind meld to bring him out of it."

"So," Bergman had a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "what's the oddest case you ever had?"

"Must have been the mother Horta. Those things are silica-based creatures, giant living rocks. This one had been hit by a phaser blast, Had to use plasto-crete to bandage her up. It's no wonder that folks think of us as miracle workers." He looked at his watch, noting that his time was almost up. "Good talking to you, Doc."

"Same here, Bones. We medics have to stick together. Our guys don't know how lucky they are to have us around."

"Oh, I think they do," McCoy whispered softly as he left the holodeck, "I think they do."


End file.
